Just His Clone
by Daisy Bokoblin
Summary: Just a clone, just a clone! He did not believe that. Dear reader, do you know the meaning of the word clone? Well, it means an exact copy of something. And he, he did not believe that he was one. A clone forever, but a true clone never. So, our not-clone did what any good not-clone would do (at least, what any good not-clone in their right mind would do).


Just a clone, just a clone! He did not believe that.

Dear reader, do you know the meaning of the word clone? Well, it means an exact copy of something. And he, he did not believe that he was one.

Really, he'd think, just compare our movesets! Sure, they looked alike, but I- I mean he- did not have the exact same moves.

He had fire! He did not. He was stronger! He was weaker. Surely, you should see he weren't a clone of he.

Please, dearest reader and friend, continue to read his tale.

A clone he was. He couldn't be a clone, no no! His moves, dear reader!

Shut out, he was. A clone forever, but a true clone never.

One day, the last straw to break the proverbial camel's back did show itself. He, our not clone, was in his own room. Not bothering a soul. But our clone (not clone) had no rest, you see! For a little, tiny note was slipped under the crack of the wooden barrier between our not-clone and the rest of them.

So, he read the note, you see. Now dear reader, may I tell you something? There were other clones in our setting. Oh yes, the winged clone of the furred one, the smaller clone of the larger, the handicapped clone of the stronger. The clone who just dressed differently to give himself a new identity. Our not-clone was not the only persecuted one.

But our not-clone was the most persecuted. You see, no one knew the not-clone or the one he was supposedly a clone of before the gathering. Some people who had no clones (or not-clones) had said that neither of them should be there.

The one who had no fire, the remarks didn't bother him. He'd just let the blatant hatred for them both continue to fester. But for the not-clone, the things said hurt. They both festered and boiled.

And as said before, the note that was slipped under his door was the last straw to break our camel's back.

It was quite clear, reader! The note, plain as day, had called him (and I quote) a lowdown, stupid clone who had had no business being a part of the tournament. So, our not-clone did what any good not-clone would do (at least, what any good not-clone in their right mind would do).

He took his counterpart. Well, non-counterpart, but the details hardly matter in this instance, reader. He waited in his counterpart's room with a baseball bat, and knocked him out cold before the non-counterpart even knew what was happening! Oh, dear reader, how marvelous that felt to our not-clone! Seeing the small pool of liquid slowly growing round his non-counterpart's cracked skull! Why, dear reader, you wonder why our not-clone would do such things? Well, it is simple. If his counterpart was gone, forever lost to the world, then our not-clone couldn't be called a clone anymore! The one he was supposedly a clone of wouldn't exist any longer!

But my reader, this is slightly beside the point. The point our not-clone is trying to make, you see, is that the deed was not yet done.

The non-counterpart still breathed. So our not-clone got mad. He was about to finish the deed when a knock sounded off of the bedroom door, and he panicked! Oh reader, how he panicked! Quickly, he propped the chair by the desk against the door and locked it before asking who could be standing on the other side.

It was that meddling Samus. Now reader, to our not-clone, she was meddling. But to our not-clone now, all he wishes is that Samus had entered the room!

She had no idea what went on inside that room.

Our not-clone remembers quite clearly, what was said next.

"Marth?" Samus, the meddler, called out the name of the non-counterpart, and the clone got mad. Mad, you see! So, he lied. Our not-clone claimed Marth had left, had gone for a short little walk out round the grounds.

And the meddler believed him.

Oh, how the not-clone felt so relieved! Samus had walked away.

But oh, how I wish she hadn't!

I did something terrible, you see!

I killed him!

He woke up!

Tried talking to the not-clone!

Tried to stop him!

Remind him!

But I didn't listen!

The not-clone used the bat, you see!

Oh, dear reader, dearest, dearest reader, do not hate me for the deed!

Do not hate our not-clone for murdering our friend!

I leave these as my last words.

The not-clone leaves this world, as did his non-counterpart.

I am sorry.

* * *

><p>The next day was awful. Smashers grieved the loss of two good friends, one who tried to do right by all, and one who believed he was a clone.<p>

Poor Samus, she blamed herself.

Poor Pichu, she found the bodies.

Poor Mario, he found the note.

Poor Smashers, they lost their friends.

He wasn't a clone.

* * *

><p><strong>Possibly one of the most dark things I've written... Yeah. I just was wondering about all the clone bashing for this game, and this oneshot was born from my wandering mindset. Dude, it even frightens me a bit! <strong>

**Hope the strange POV's didn't throw anyone off, but they were supposed to switch like that. Because the main character is crazy. Yeah.**


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